


Addicted to you

by Miss_Readly



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Doctor John, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Hurt and comfort, Junkie Sherlock, Love, Love at the first sight, M/M, Overdose, Pain, Romance, Scars, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, alternative universe, junkie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-18 10:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Readly/pseuds/Miss_Readly
Summary: Johnlock Soulmate AU - The soulmate AU where the physical state your partner is in, is the state you’re in. If your soulmate has a bruise, you’ll have a bruise; if your partner is sick, you’ll be sick. When you meet your soulmate (via eye-contact) then it’ll stop, and you won’t share the pain of each other’s illness/ injuries.
Relationships: Dr. Watson/Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 303





	Addicted to you

John had always been in love with the idea of having a soulmate somewhere out there. That somewhere out there in the wide world was a person who loved him just the way he was, no matter what. Although he did not know them, neither gender nor nationality nor their favourite food or name, he loved them dearly.

As a child he could not wait for the moment, when he would get his first scar of his other half. Of course, he had had some bruises from his soulmate. Nothing too bad, thankfully.

He remembered the moment he got his first scar of his soulmate like it was yesterday. He had just turned seven and had been sitting at the counter in the kitchen drawing something with his new pencils on a blank sheet of paper, while his mother had been cooking for dinner.  
It was a sudden ache just above his left eyebrow and it burned like fire. John tried to suppress a sob, but he was so shocked that he dropped his green pencil and it fell on the floor. Hot tears were running over his cheeks, when his mother turned around in shock and hurried over to him. She held him tight to her chest and caressed his blonde hair as she promised that the pain would fade away soon. She also gasped in surprise when she saw the white thin scar that divided his eyebrow into two parts.

His mother hurried and brought him the pocket mirror, she always held out to cut his hair, so he had a better look at his scar. He traced the subtle line in awe and felt sorry for his soulmate, who run through pain right now. He wanted to help them, so they did not feel pained anymore. That was the moment he decided he wanted to be a doctor one day.

*oOo*

John was a normal child which often played rugby with his friends in the backyard of the house. He was the best player and played with much more effort than his friends. So it was no wonder he often got bruises and scars on his knees that he always felt guilty about for his soulmate. One time at the age of twelve he crashed into the defender of the opposing team and broke his right arm. There still were some scars from the screws which had been in his arm for some weeks.

Over the years he got more scars of his soulmate. Especially at the fingertips. Maybe he or she played a sort of instrument or something like that. John was always fascinated when a new scar turned up on his skin. Sometimes he spent hours looking at them in the big mirror of the bathroom or tracing them while laying on his bed.

Then it happened for the first time. John was sitting in the exam for his medical degree, when he suddenly felt a sting on his left arm. Curiously he rolled his sleeve up and had a closer look. It felt like the sting of injection. Suddenly John felt all dizzy and the paper in front of him went out of focus. He could not concentrate on the letters on the sheet anymore.  
It wasn’t the last time that John felt like this. It was the first time of many more following times. He would have loved to help his soulmate, but he couldn’t. They had to deal with it themselves and John hated that he had to abandon them. There was no way he could help them in any way. He lost the count over the many injection wounds on his forearm.

One time it nearly cost him his life. He was trying to help a fellow solider out in the field, when his mind got giddy and his view turned unclear. It was the second he got shot because he did not see the Afghan assassin.

John never wished for another soulmate in his life till that event. He always told himself that he would love and help them as soon as he met them. Now he wasn’t that certain anymore. His soulmate nearly killed him. His soulmate nearly killed themselves with every drug they took.The constant pain in his shoulder would remind him of this event every tday for the rest of his life. His soulmate was destroying his and their life step by step. They were also the reason why he had to quit his service for the Royal army.

*oOo*

Sherlock never believed in love. It was just a chemical defect and the whole soulmate concept just a failure of the humane body. It was slowing him down.

He wasn’t a happy child. Other children were always calling him names because he was too clever for his own good. He felt abandoned and there was nothing that stopped his always racing mind.

When he was younger, he was looking forward to meeting his soulmate like everyone else, too. He thought of them as he fell down the stairs at the age of three and cut his eyebrow. Sherlock clearly remembered the first time he got aware of the existence of this other person that seemed to run like a red thread through his life. He sometimes had had bruises of his other half. But that was it. The young boy knew nothing about them. But he could deduce some things about him. He thought that it was a boy because he had some scars on the knees which resulted from sports like American football or rugby. In these sports, the probability that it was a boy was much higher due to gender distribution than his soulmate was a girl. He just collected possible facts but it drove him crazy that he could only estimate those and had no proofs. So one day the boy broke his arm and Sherlock felt like his arm was on fire. He cried a lot and his older brother Mycroft made him a hot chocolate and comforted him through the pain.

But over the years he had lost his faith in the humanity and his soulmate. They were all the same. They called him a freak. But what really bothered him was the question if they were right? Wasn’t he just some creepy freak? Why should his soulmate love him? They deserved someone better. No one would want to end up with him and grow old together till death do them part. That’s what Sherlock thought.

Then there was the first contact with drugs. At first, it was only pot, which soon lost its effect when Sherlock got used to it. Only a few days later he got in touch with a homeless who sold him some heroin. And finally Sherlock's mind stopped racing. He was constantly high during his teens and did not care about anyone. He soon forgot about his soulmate and the expectations he was afraid he would never be able to fulfil. The pressure faded and his mind shut down.

The only thing that made him think about the manor of his life was the continually pain in his shoulder. He was just giving himself a new shot, when his shoulder burned and ached. Sherlock just pulled the injection out of his vein and dropped the syringe at the sudden pain. It scattered into thousands of pieces on the pavement.

The years passed and Sherlock had moved to London in the meantime. He built a life up for himself there. His drug addiction only got worse and over time he experimented more and more to keep his mind quiet. Not even that bloody silver haired detective from Scotland yard was able to stop him.

*oOo*

John had had the night shift at Bart’s and the students just went home. He was tired after staying awake for 24 hours. It had been a calm night and he was on the way to his locker to get changed so that he could stop at his favourite Asian take away and catch the tube to his flat where he would shower and then straight go to bed. His left arm had stung the whole day and he did not dare to roll up his sleeve and have a look at the red punctures on his skin.  
He just had opened his locker and was about to change his clothing when his colleague Sarah burst through the door.  
“It’s an emergency, John. We need you here now, I’m sorry. It’s an urgent case.“ John sighed and closed his locker again. Then he hurried after Sarah down the hallway to the emergency department.  
“Give me some facts!“  
“It’s a male drug addict with a high overdose of Heroine. He was found by a Police crackdown, when they made a search in a ruin, where some junkies meet up and get high. DI Lestrade from New Scotland Yard found him. It seems like he knows that man because he gave us some information about him. His name is Sherlock Holmes, 34 years old, and he’s known for his addiction and can handle a lot of that stuff, but this time he has taken his luck to the extreme!“

Two paramedics brought a stretcher with a tall pale man on it inside. Black curls framed his slightly blue skin. He looked like he was asleep and all his features were softened. No one would suspect that this man was fighting for his life just like that. John had never seen someone as beautiful as this man.

John hurried over to the stretcher and instructed the paramedics. The breathing of the man had stopped already. When he finally reached the patient, he had prepared a dose Naloxone. He injected it in the intravenous infusion on the arm of Sherlock Holmes. The doctor ripped the shirt and stopped as soon as he saw the familiar scars on the shoulder. He recognized the white line that parted the left eyebrow of the man. John saw it every time he looked in a mirror. And suddenly everything made sense. He forgot about his anger or his pain. He wanted that man to live no matter what. So he started CPR.  
»Please live! Breathe, damn Sherlock, breathe! I will not lose you! Not if I didn’t even get the chance to get to know you!« He begged the man in his mind.

Suddenly the unconscious body beneath him came to life. Sherlock made a tremulous gasp for air and John thanked god. The most wonderful blue eyes he had ever seen fell on his features and a confused gaze met his. At the sight of the scar on his eyebrow Sherlock’s eyes went wide and realization hit him. And John simply smiled, while he felt how the pain faded.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my Tumblr sharp-cheekbones-locked for more.


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